I made a huge mistake today. As everyone always says, eating food from Taco Hell always wreaks havoc on one's guts. I didn't listen and I ate it anyway. It cost me my sanity. I totally lost it.
Some time after eating my meal, I felt the inevitable poop coming on. As usual, I tried to hold it, at least for a little while, until I could finish the few pages I had up in my browser. But the shit warriors kept on ramming the gates. They weren't about to give up. Not this time.
I finally snatched up my laptop, unplugging it as I was grabbing it, and waddled to the bathroom; I could finish reading there. I sat the computer on the counter and unbuttoned my shorts. The very moment my shorts came off, the gates gave way to the battering ram, unleashing a massive wave of liquishit into my old, dirty toilet with a loose plastic seat. I sat there for a few minutes, barely pushing, totally ignoring the computer. The pages could wait. My ass was shooting liquishit all on its own, and that came first.
Surprisingly, after just one rather large torrent, the storm cleared. The clouds were still lingering, though, and they weren't showing any signs of letting sunlight through. Three wipes weren't enough -- damn it! I'm out of paper!
Frantically I search for some. None on the back of the toilet. None under the cabinet or closet. Like the brave warrior I can be in times of desperation, I grabbed from the trashcan a wad that I had blown my nose on, and finished the job. Not the best idea, but desperate times call for desperate measures. (Though not quite desperate enough to merit a shower.)
Then it was the moment of truth. Would this old toilet flush for once? But of course not. One touch of the handle flooded the evil thing to the rim.
I have a clock radio next to the toilet that is never set -- and thus it's always flashing "12:00." This time, it was magnified. Red lights flashed in my head. "12:00." "12:00." The alarm inside me went off. This would have been the perfect time for the radio station to announce a test of the emergency broadcast system. It sure was an emergency for me! I wanted to scream right then and there, but I had to keep telling myself, "Shut up, Double Flush! There are other people in the house!"
I thank whoever is in charge up above that the plunger was in my bathroom that time. Ever so gingerly did I coax the toilet's pipes to clear. With a little bit of engineering, followed by my signature double flush, the bowl was clear. Once again, all was well in the house.
If you know where I live, I'll give you free Taco Hell leftovers. I don't want them. Nor do I want another red alert.
I really miss the Sloan Valve toilets in the dorm where I used to live.